In 1933 he was forced to leave his life in Berlin and came here with my grandmother and my mother who was six then.
Four years later he was murdered by Arabs in the orchard where he worked. I did not know him and I do not feel a special connection to Ukraine.
But I feel a lot of compassion and sorrow for the fate of the Ukrainians.
I understand that I belong to a large tribe whose post-trauma is already part of its DNA.
When a great national trouble occurs in the world it is hard for me to ignore and I find myself experiencing it through all means of communication and introspection and I need to learn the smallest details.
I'm sure I'm no better than others who say that as long as they can not do anything about it they prefer to turn off the news and clean the shelves of the fridge or watch nature movies.
But I also remember how in times of existential anxiety here a few kind words from people I have never met and probably never will have helped me. You know who you are. There is something so empowering in a few words in such difficult hours.
So do not ignore, try to do something small, in a word, in thought in whatever way you choose.